


Red Ribbon

by kidlightnings (revolver)



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken | Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Reglay family, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-02 02:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17879459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revolver/pseuds/kidlightnings
Summary: Louise follows a trail of red string and memories to find a sweet surprise from her family. It really has been a year, hasn't it? Nagamas 2019 gift for turkeymagic





	Red Ribbon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [turkeymagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turkeymagic/gifts).



Louise had an easier time following the giggling through the estate than the ribbons, cord, string, rope, that had been carefully, expertly, draped, run, strung, tucked just out of sight throughout the long halls and rooms. It broke in places, only to pick back up once she deciphered the clues. A real hunt, she supposed. She felt like a young girl again, on the trail, perhaps, of game to put on the family table. Hunting. Following red. In places, she had to double back, take another path through rooms she'd already visited. The mirth that played across her lips was genuine. Now, she knew that Pent could be quite elaborate in his gifts, but this seemed to involve the children as well. What she would find at the end of all of this made her almost grateful it had taken over half the morning, she did love the feeling of almost giddy anticipation.

It had started at her bed. For Pent to have slipped out unnoticed was a feat. Louise had taken her oath of protection so seriously, for him to have escaped her? He was very good. Mage general or not, she had a sixth sense about him.

Her eye twinkled as she finally spied the errant end of yet another luscious red ribbon dangling from the book-case. She was in the study now, and as she pulled down the book. The ribbon she found was only a marker, to a page. The passage spoke of gardens.

This was new, though. She hadn't yet had to venture outdoors. Now, there were two gardens, which had her boring into the page. Not finding any direct reference, she flipped the volume closed to see the title. _A Rose for her Hand_. She laughed. The flower garden it was.

Louise had followed the trail from her bed, through the kitchen, along the corridors, and some of the scraps, she imagined must have been placed desperately far in advance, as no one person, magical or not, could festoon a house so in one night. She imagined that while Klein may have assisted, Clarine only would have undone with her small hands that clumsily could now hold a staff, though certainly not yet elicit any productive sort of magic. Pent had warmed up to the idea of starting them so young. Louise had spent girlhood learning to shoot with finesse that put the soldiers to shame, and had found it a source of pride amongst other children - it wouldn't hurt the children to spend some time from their studies learning the art of combat.

She pushed open the double doors leading to the garden, and the symphony of red she found there. She thought to tucking the smoothed stems of roses behind the ears of both her husband and children, though at the time, Clarine barely knew what was happening in the late afternoon sun. Laying in the warm rays as Pent stole a kiss, and Klein made a face, laughing with all of them as she tugged their son close, fingers dancing across his stomach.

She turned from the memory fondly, catching sight of her namesake violets decorating the railing as she descended.

Louise settled for a moment to her knees to regard a particularly full bloom, so red, nearly velvet in the deepest parts of the petals. While the hunt may be on, she could spare herself a moment to enjoy the trail. It was when her eyes alighted on the ground by her bare knee that she saw it, thick, glossy ribbon that wove from where she sat, deeper towards the center of the arches and hedging that invited one in to the sultry reaches of the thicket.

She lifted it, lips twitching up in a smile, and began to wind it around her finger as she followed. It wasn't lost on her that the sounds of soft laughter had faded, and she was now alone with the faint breeze and the occasional chirping birdsong. Perhaps the end of this road was further than she thought.

When Louise reached the center, she found a basket. Cliche. Cute. So sweet, she thought, imagining what might be inside even as she tipped the top open to reveal a plush nest of petals, and nothing except a neatly folded paper tented amongst them. The precise creasing left her unprepared for the script inside that must have been, truly, the finest that their children could have mustered.

_Love is a battlefield_ was certainly something that Klein may have found in one of the books that he shouldn't have been reading, but, of course, who could stop him when he was devouring books at such a speed? Or, perhaps, Pent had supplied the words.

She had a few ideas for where her next tracks may be found.

Her footsteps echoed faintly off the walls of the armory, and her eyes fell immediately to her bow. Treasured, worn, etched with the marks of war, and it brought unbidden that upside-down feeling in her stomach as she waited, anxious and at the same time joyous, for the perfect moment to tell her husband, even as she felled a wyvern knight from the sky. Perfection never made itself known. It found her on its own as Pent had burned an enemy to dust in a reaction of shock, then, the warm glow of pride and his own excitement. Nothing could touch them for the rest of the battle. Hector had compared it to watching a tornado picking a wildfire right up off the ground. Louise had laughed him off, surely, that he was being dramatic.

Guy's extra jitters around her, though, drove it home. Perhaps there was something to this, though, what she'd heard courtly ladies say about pregnancy had been the dire opposite, what with the fainting and the weakness. Well, perhaps if they'd found themselves in such a condition in the midst of battle...

Back in the present, she found her hand drawn immediately to the quiver full of arrows. Pulling one free, her cheeks pulled tight into a wider smile to find more string tied around, securing a scrap of fabric. Each arrow she pulled free had the same treatment.

"Well.. a couple of choices," she murmured to herself, turning the fabric, a piece at a time, between her fingers. Sewing had never been a passion of hers, and yet, she did still have a corner stocked with some of her favorite colors, materials, in case such an urge struck her, and for appearances. These certainly could have come from there, or, perhaps, from the drapes that covered the windows in- well, nearly every room, but, the first room she'd finished any for was the nursery. Maybe she'd go there first, put off what she felt was the more obvious answer.

Still, no sign since earlier of the rest of the family. The silence was a soft sort of lonely, the kind that embraced, but left one empty as they sank deeper into it. As she pushed open the door into the spacious nursery, though, eyes caught in the hazy sunshine let in by the sheer, lacy gauze that covered the windows beneath the heavier drapes that had been pushed to the side. It felt just a bit warmer in the room, luxuriously appointed with idly folded blankets, pillows and large soft toys piled against one wall and peeking out from shelves along the others. The loneliness swept away in a deep wave of nostalgia for crooning over Klein's crib, and then, what felt like perhaps just the day before, Clarine's. Of Pent slipping out of bed in the night to soothe each’s crying as Louise lay exhausted and pretended, for just those moments, not to wake, and her dear husband letting her have that fantasy as he would return like a ghost, and then indulge her further upon her "suddenly" waking and needing some attention of her own. Her cheeks heated at the thought as she leaned against the wall.

From the nursery, though, she did continue to the little nook of the estate she claimed for her sewing, and after some diligence, found red fabric tucked into a bolt. When it would not come free, she unrolled it, finding, pressed between layers of heavy brocade, pages, though in quite poor condition. While she had no talent for magic herself, she'd know the used pages from a spellbook anywhere. Louise gave in to her first instinct to slip into the next room, the study. So close by, though, as her quest had her traipsing across the manor, she suspected, too easy. Perusing the couple of tomes found within validated that this was not to be her destination.

The heavy door of Pent's alchemy lab was pocked and carried upon opening the aroma of burning, potions, and, something sweet. Louise let her breath pull in, deep, fill her lungs in both anticipation, and savoring, nearly tasting the air. With a firm push, she stepped into the room, letting her eyes adjust to focus on the bright points in the center.

"Oh-" she breathed, as she acclimated enough to discern the flickering candles set into a modest white cake.

" _Mommy_ ," shrieked Clarine, as her small legs carried her to tackle directly into Louise. Klein held a more aloof look, even as a smile pulled his lips up. Sweeping in from behind, startling her, she felt Pent's arms encircle her.

"Four hours," Pent intoned, lips close enough to her ear to tickle as he spoke. "We will _definitely_ need to try harder next year. It seems your mother is just too clever for us."

Klein made a little huff. "I _told_ you the flowers were silly," he mumbled, and Louise beckoned him over.

"The flowers were lovely," she said, pulling him in alongside his sister. She dropped down to their level, and Pent sank with them.

"A good birthday, my dear?" Pent asked, then standing to lead her by the hand to the cake.

She wiped traces of tears from her cheeks, holding Clarine's hand with her other.

"Every year, I think it can't possibly be better, but it seems, books don't hold the only magic you can channel."

Pent handed her a slice of cake, pressing a kiss to her cheek as a small transit tariff in the process. It was only after serving Klein, and, carefully, Clarine, guiding her to rest the plate safely on the table, that he cut his own slice, and they ate in candlelight.

"How long?" Louise asked, "did all of this take?"

"Long enough that I thought it may have presented more of a challenge," Pent answered enigmatically, but with a twinkle that didn't just come from the flame.

"We started last month!" Klein blurted. " _She_ kept moving stuff!"

Clarine gasped a little huff of her own, "Did not! Did not!"

"What Klein is trying to say is that at first, we may have made things too easy, and Clarine thought it wouldn't be enough of a challenge for you. How right she was!" Pent clarified, pulling her into her lap to cut off any further barbs, feeding her a bit of his own slice.

"I can eat myself!" she protested, but, all the same, opened her mouth for each bite.

Louise giggled at the little drama.

Cake finished, Pent set Clarine's feet on the floor, and placed a hand on Klein's back, murmured something downright conspiratory in tone. He nodded and took Clarine's hand, both of them making their way back to the surface world.

Louise let her eyes drift up to meet Pent's.

"You left me giddy like a little girl, it was too much, too much for the wife of a noble," she said, shifting closer to take his hand. "Milord."

"My lady, I did not marry the wife of a noble," he responded. "The year through, you never let fall your promise to me, and yet, I let mine to you slack, entire days I am deep in study." He clasped her hand and firelight danced across his features. "On this of all days, I can start each year new. I can see my wife with that same joy in her eyes as when I first asked her hand."

Louise felt her eyes full and blinked, then settling her lids closed a moment and drew his hand to her lips. "And my hand, you'll always have, to hold, and to shield you."

The silence stretched between them, comfortable, and warm as the candles that lit them.


End file.
